


mock me with praise

by kingofsin



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunken Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, takes place after /that/ episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-06 18:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingofsin/pseuds/kingofsin
Summary: "That was pure, unadulterated love."title is from being alive from the musical company





	1. Night

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written anything in ages yeehaw
> 
> mostly unbetaed
> 
> cw: alcohol, infanticide

“On the count of murder in the second degree, we the jury find the defendant Rafael Barba-”

The woman in the jury couldn’t’ve paused for more then a second, but it felt like an eternity. It was as if time had frozen for that moment as the whole courtroom looked the district attorney dead in his teary eyes. 

“Not guilty”.

The sigh of relief exited Rafael’s lungs like a typhoon. Even still, not guilty only means so much. Barba knew so much himself from being a district attorney for upwards of twenty years. Even without a day of jail time, just being put on trial is enough to leave one’s reputation in need of urgent care. 

Urgent care that Barba decided it wasn’t worth the effort to pursue, seeing as he realized the moment he took the baby off of life support that his career as Assistant District Attorney was as good as over regardless of anything that happened in the immediate future. It was time for him to leave the D.A’s office.

///

 _Christ_ , Carisi thought to himself while eyeing his watch, _You would think he’d_ be here by now.

The detective’s moment of contemplation was interrupted by the loud voice of the bartender. 

“Are you getting anything, or what?” 

The fact that the bartender had to point that out to Carisi was testimony to just how long he’d been waiting at the bar for the counsellor to show up. This is right next to where he always sits, Carisi thought to himself, as he imagined Barba sitting there, hair disheveled, nursing a glass of fine scotch and scoffing What do you want, in Carisi’s face. This night is different, though. Carisi knew that. Even still, if any night called for a scotch to drown Rafael’s sorrows, it was tonight. 

“I’m waiting for someone,” he finally answered, not being entirely sure how long he had kept the bartender waiting. 

“What, you got a date with someone?,” the bartender taunted. 

“Friend who needs a shoulder to cry on,” Carisi replied, “but I don’t know if they’re gonna show.”

“Never too late to get started on your own, then,” the bartender snidely replied.

If Carisi was being perfectly honest with himself, he wasn’t in the mood to drink himself. He was perfectly fine being Rafael’s designated driver for the night, and didn’t quite have the head for liquor himself. Against his better judgement, though, he craved that sense of comfort that came with Rafael’s beverage of choice in the prosecutor’s absence. 

“I’ll have a glass of your finest scotch.”

 

///

 

Rafael couldn’t sleep.

Most nights, Rafael had some trouble with sleep. Mild issues. Nothing that couldn’t be blamed on his caffeine habit, or fixed with a nice clean scotch. This night was different though. 

No matter how desperately he yearned for it, sleep refused to come to him. Moreso now then any other time in his life, the demons in his head were absolutely determined to keep him awake. All he could do was lie on his back and stare blankly at the ceiling. 

Rafael was tired of internally debating if he did the right thing or not. He felt absolutely backed into a corner by his own morality and his sense of justice, and wanted nothing more than a way out. He was past the point of trying to justify his actions to himself, but he also felt past the point of feeling bad for breaking the law. 

In his head, the counsellor (or whatever was left of that title) went through a list of people he had left behind, of people who he had let down. There was one name in particular that came up over and over again: _Dominick Carisi Jr_. Barba could tell right away that Carisi looked up to him. It was only natural - Carisi was a law student, Barba was a lawyer, and Barba vividly remembered how infatuated he was with any legal practitioner he interacted with back in his law school days. 

But Carisi was more then that. He wasn’t just a naive child who looked up to a colleague, he was an adult who absolutely knew what he was getting into. All those times getting a little too close to Barba on the couch in the office, asking to stay the night while preparing for an extra long trail, making sure that the counsellor always knew how handsome he looked, those weren’t just the workings of a man who admired his work. That was pure, unadulterated love.

Which just made the thought of how Carisi felt with him now all the more painful to think about. If Barba felt disappointed in himself, he could only imagine the disappointment that Carisi felt in him. He didn’t even want to fathom what kind of contempt lied in the detective’s heart, how betrayed the good Catholic must feel watching somebody he admires so much murder a child in cold blood.

Barba didn’t want to focus on that right now, though. He wanted a nice, clean scotch. But his legs felt too heavy for him to try and leave his place. Especially at this hour, he thought to himself, most of the bars are probably closing up. Instead, he settled for an unopened beer bottle, that was sitting around his fridge eagerly awaiting consumption. 

“Carisi would probably like this,” he muttered under his breath as he wrestled the cap off the bottle. 

\---

One glass of the finest scotch turned into two, two turned into three, and three turned into enough for Carisi to be reasonably intoxicated. Scotch was far from Carisi’s favourite beverage (he was more of a beer person), but he knew Barba’s drink order by heart and just the mere association of the counsellor gave Carisi an internal sense of safety. 

The more Carisi drank, the more he thought about Barba. Early on he could justify himself by telling himself he took a professional interest in Barba’s work, but as time went on that excuse began to wear thin. Even knowing fully about his feelings for the counsellor, he was far too afraid to do anything that remotely involved pursuing him. 

Now Carisi had another demon to wrangle with. What Barba had done. Carisi didn’t have it in him to worry about the legal aspect, but even from a moral level, there was a part of him that wanted to hate Barba. A part of him wanted to grab Rafael by the collar of one of his stupid dress shirts and say what the hell was that, counsellor? But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even bring himself to be mad at Barba. 

The thought of that called for more scotch. 

“I love ‘im,” he quietly slurred, to nobody in particular. Felt good to get that off his chest, even if nobody was around to hear it.

“Everything good?” the bartender asked, alerting Carisi that he was directly in earshot. 

“Yeah, s’all good,” Carisi replied clumsily, “Just thinkin’ aloud.”

Carisi looked around him. One by one, patrons were starting to leave the bar, hugging each other and giving their goodbyes. Must be late, he thought to himself. He didn’t realize how long he’d been there. 

“One more scotch,” he stammered at the bartender, sliding a ten dollar bill down the counter, “Then I’ll head home.”


	2. 2:00AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Barba knew what Carisi wanted. He wanted to comfort the counsellor. Even after a nosedive into a bottle of scotch, Sonny was still a trained detective and could figure out that Rafael wasn’t okay. Barba was afraid, though. He was afraid of his own vulnerability. Afraid to let others in. He didn’t want anyone to hurt the way that he hurted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i have a job interview tomorrow so i kind of rushed to finish this chapter but i'm reasonably confident in how it turned out! i ended up rewriting it about five times so i hope that it's good ;;

No matter what he tried to do, Rafael Barba’s brain would not let him go to sleep. He tried having a few beers, but that just made him think of Carisi, which kept him awake. 

Barba wondered whereabouts Carisi was and what he was doing. _Probably sleeping like a baby_ , he thought, _an alive one_. Last thing Barba wanted on his mind was unconscious babies. 

As much as Barba thoroughly enjoyed wallowing in self pity at two in the morning, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Perfect time for whoever wants me dead to follow up on that, he thought, God knows I could use it right now.  
To his surprise, when he opened the door, he was greeted not by some thug who wanted him dead, but instead by SVU’s own Dominick Carisi, smelling strongly of scotch, who probably wanted him dead all the same. 

“Detective Carisi,” Barba said firmly, “what in God’s name are you doing here?”

“Sonny,” the detective slurred, leaning into the doorway with one arm to maintain balance, “You’re supposed’ta call me Sonny.” 

Clearly, the poor guy had been drinking, which was obvious not only from the way he was slurring his words but by the fact that he seemed to have lost all control of his long, gangly limbs, which just appeared to knock around with no sense of direction. As annoyed as he should be, there was something so endearing about Sonny that Barba couldn’t bring himself to be seriously cross with him. 

“What are you doing here, Sonny?” he corrected himself. 

“Wanted to see if you were okay.” he mumbled as he attempted in vain not to trip over himself. 

“At two in the morning?” Barba chuckled awkwardly, raising his eyebrows suspiciously. 

“You weren’t at the bar,” Sonny whined, making flailing gestures with his hands to get his point across, “I got really worried.”

Worried, even from the mouth of a positively hammered detective, wasn’t something Barba expected. He wasn’t somebody people worried about. He was a person who gets things done, who puts the bad guys away, who always does the right thing. Except when he doesn’t. 

“You smell like scotch,” Barba blurted out, trying to change the subject. 

“S’your favourite, right?” Sonny slurred, his hands in motion like a puppeteer, “I was waiting for you at the bar, but y’didn’t show, so I had a couple’a drinks myself.”

“I can see that.” 

“I swear counsellor, I’m not drunk,” Sonny lied, making a sloppy gesture with his hands, “I just… really wanted to see you. You’ve been doing pretty rough lately.”

The more that Sonny talked with his hands, the harder it was for him to stand on his own two feet. Barba grabbed the wobbly counsellor by the shoulders, trying to keep him from falling and hurting himself. To a drunk detective, this gesture was an invitation to be hugged, an invitation that Carisi quickly took as he wrapped his arms around the shorter man.

“I should really call a taxi,” Barba awkwardly mouthed, “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Please, Raf,” Sonny mumbled directly into Barba’s shoulder, “Let me stay.”

Barba knew what Carisi wanted. He wanted to comfort the counsellor. Even after a nosedive into a bottle of scotch, Sonny was still a trained detective and could figure out that Rafael wasn’t okay. Barba was afraid, though. He was afraid of his own vulnerability. Afraid to let others in. He didn’t want anyone to hurt the way that he hurted. 

“Are you sure you really want that?”

Sometimes, trying to get through to Barba was like trying to talk to a brick wall. Or rather, trying to drive a car into a brick wall after having one too many drinks. Alright, maybe Sonny was drunk. 

“Rafael, please don’t go do this to yourself.” Carisi whimpered sloppily, “I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want you to be alone. I love you.” 

The taller man planted a sloppy, scotch-scented kiss on Rafael’s cheek. 

The last thing Barba wanted to think about was sending Carisi home right now. About anything possibly happening to hurt him. The poor detective, helplessly in love and drunk on his own guilt, wandering the night on his own, crawling into the arms of anyone he possibly could for protection.

A person not unlike Barba himself. 

“Alright,” Barba muttered after a deep sigh, “You can stay the night. But only because I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

 

///

Attempting to wrestle Sonny (or rather, Sonny’s gangly giraffe-esque body) into an appropriate sleeping position wasn’t exactly something that Barba had the physical expertise to do, but with time it came. Or rather, with time the detective’s drunken stumbling was able to come to an anticlimactic halt. 

“Raf,” he sheepishly moaned, “I don’t feel well.”

“I know you don’t, Sonny,” Rafael quietly whispered as he tucked him in.

“I feel horrible. I feel like I’m gonna die,” Sonny catastrophized. Barba couldn't help but find that cute. 

"You'll be fine," Barba chuckled reassuringly, "You just need a good night sleep." 

"So do you." 

_God damn this man and how much he cares_ , Barba thought to himself. The detective was like a dog with a bone when he wanted something, and there was nothing that Carisi wanted more then for Barba to feel loved. 

Against his better judgement, Barba stripped himself of his dreary black suit and placed himself next to the sleepy detective on his mattress. The combined volume of their bodies was just compact enough to not take up too much space, owing mostly to Carisi's propinquity to Rafael as well as his long and slim frame. 

There was a part of Barba that knew Carisi wouldn't remember a moment of this tomorrow morning. A part of Barba that knew Carisi would wake up confused and angry, asking how in God's name he ended up in bed with a _baby killer_ , but Barba didn't want to think about right now. All he wanted to think about was how he would sleep a hell of a lot better with Carisi's arms around him.

"I love you too, Sonny," was the last thing that he said before drifting off into the world of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! shout out to riley and kat for proofreading parts of this


	3. A New Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want you to leave just yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and sweet ending! i kiiind of wrote this in one sitting but yeah

Waking up after a night of heavy drinking was never particularly pleasant, but that particular morning made Sonny feel like an alcoholic in a soap opera about to vow to never drink again. His entire body felt sore, and his stomach felt awful enough to turn him off of food for a week. 

It didn’t take him that long to figure out where he was. Even without opening his eyes, he could feel himself resting in Barba’s lap. If he could stay there forever, he most certainly would, but unfortunately for the detective, he knew that it was only a matter of time before he’d be kicked out. 

“How are you feeling?” 

_Fuck_. That voice. It really was Barba. 

“Sore as all hell,” Carisi answered, hoping that Barba wasn’t mad at him, “Exactly why I hate scotch.”

“You hate scotch?” Barba chuckled, rubbing Carisi’s head, “Is that why you showed up at my my drenched in it?”

“It’s your favourite,” Carisi protested, wriggling himself upwards, “When I went to the bar last night, I was really worried about you.”

“And you decided to express that concern by… get absolutely hammered off of my beverage of choice.”

Sonny whined as he wrapped his arms around Barba’s back and shoulders. 

“I was afraid, counsellor. Afraid to confront you. Afraid to confront the fact that I loved you,” he moaned, “A toast to you was the only thing that felt right.” 

“Oh, I think it was more than a toast,” Barba teased, “You don’t get that green from a toast to a friend.” 

“I think that you’re more than just a friend, Rafael.”

_Fuck_. That might’ve been awkward. Sonny was only half sobered up and still had just enough liquid courage in him to say something that could make Barba uncomfortable. Did it make Barba uncomfortable? Sonny pulled himself out of Barba’s lap as a means of non-verbally apologizing. 

Barba, however, having absolutely none of that, grabbed Carisi by the neck to pull him closer. His grip was firm but gentle, and his hands were warm. The detective closed his eyes and softly smiled. 

“Please, Sonny,” Barba whispered into his ear, “I don’t want you to leave just yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading follow twitter user metaltango for updates


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